Light Show
by Ryan Shinhan
Summary: An entertainer stumbles upon something unique while searching for a way to improve his art.
1. Chapter 1

He slowly tied his hair back tightly into the style of his people. Staring himself in the face, his reflection showed the sheer joy and anticipation he was feeling. After another second of mental preparation and exciting himself,  
he stepped slowly out onto the stage.

Five torches, symbolizing each of his limbs and his head, were positioned in a star formation around him.  
Slowly he sloughed off the long cape he wore, and bowed, saluting the crowd with the customary bow of the Fire Nation.  
Then he was airborne. Spread-eagled pointing to each of he five torches he shot bursts of flame igniting each. Before he began to fall he flipped and blasted fire straight at the ground, propelling himself into another series of flips, fire trailing his heels until he slammed his feet flat against the ground, spreading orange flames in a ring to the edges of the stage, where he cut them off, dispersing them harmlessly. As this happened, the torches representing his legs flared high, turning a bright yellow.

As they died down, he punched rapidly, shooting many small fireballs that, instead of dissipating,  
began tracing around his body, forming rings around his ankles and wrists, still in motion. Then, as if realizing a sudden threat, he turns to face the audience and flings the flames toward them, only just whipping them upwards and creating a gigantic ball of flame, hovering above the audience. He clenches his fists and the ball explodes, sending a shower of sparks down, flickering ever so happily. Without hesitating, he throws his fists toward the ground, making a similar flurry of sparks that instead of winking out, stay suspended in air, burning and twinkling like stars in the night sky. The two torches for his arms flare into a bright red, and slowly die down as the sparks around him do.

Then his head torch flares. He tilts his head back and screams, blasting fire toward the heavens and curling it back on itself making a ball of fire, constantly moving, looking almost like an orange spherical waterfall. He cuts off his breath from this and the fireball extinguishes itself quickly. He then blows rings of fire from his mouth, as if smoke from a pipe, and quickly changes from rings to spheres, then cubes, and so on until he has shown every shape he can think of. He takes a deep breath, gathering strength and control, and exhales, blowing such a huge amount of fire that the trail seems to go on for yards. Then suddenly it takes shape, growing a dragon's head at the front and wings and arms. As he closes his mouth, a tail escapes from it, as if escaping from a prison which had held it. He collapses suddenly but the torches around him flare up into a bright blue flame.

The dragon whirls on him. He slowly stands and assumes a loose stance with his palms up. He quickly starts a modified Camilliphant Strut, a dance that had recently been repopularized, and makes his way toward the dragon. He allows the torches to continue to surge higher and higher, and the dragon begins to coil upwards, its center on him. He shoots a spout of flames through the dragon's coils mixing with the blast the dragon itself had shot simultaneously. His blast fades and the dragon continues in its spiral. He quickly pivots a full spin with his hands outstretched; the dragon bursts into miniature flames, falling into the much larger flames burning on the torches.

His shoulders relax, his knees bend and his feet widen. He begins sliding along, first on one foot then the other, almost skating over the stage, a thin layer of flames under his feet. His foot stops, he pitches forward and catches himself one-  
handed, suspended only on that arm. He begins to rotate himself, spinning on a pool of fire under his hand, kicking up flames around him until he is covered in them, unable to be seen. He emerges at the peak of his flaming cyclone, appearing to hover. Then he extends both arms and throws back his head in a primal roar, spuming flames from each limb, flames of red yellow and blue.

His landing was swift. The tornado dissipated; left him to fall with nothing supporting him. As he plummeted he only grinned at his audience. Thrusting his arms toward the ground, an exposion rocks the stage, and the torches flare and burn out. When the smoke cleared, nothing was left on the stage but the smoking cinders in the torch brackets.


	2. Chapter 2

As he walked from the stage, his hair fell reaching from his chin to his shoulders. He quickly replaced his knot, if only to keep the hair out of his eyes. He reached his dressing room and quickly removed the sweat-soaked shirt that had survived the intense bath of fire that he had just put it through. He regretted needing another new cape, and needing one in the first place, but it added to the silent intensity and the drama that he loved to focus on.

After changing into more street-appropriate clothes, he left the stage, watching as another entertainer begins a more conservative version of his dragon routine, popular during the Great War, due to the Avatar being in attendance at one during a Fire Festival. He shook his head with silent laughter, thinking how easily it was done with the thin "leash" of flame allowing the performer much more control, while seeming to struggle; more a parlor trick than anything else.

As he leaves the theatre a man dressed in a messenger's garb approaches him and hands him a scroll emblazoned with the Xi Fang family, the resident power elite. It surprised him that such a high class family would want anything to do with a simple performer, little better than a peasant farmer. He accepted the missive with a nod and tipped the man for his trouble; changing had taken longer than usual and he expected that the man had been stationed here as soon as the show had ended.

He read the letter as he made his way home, a roll from the local stand in his mouth. He stopped dead mid-step and his snack hit the ground as his mouth gaped. This family wanted to hire him as a tutor for their daughter! He had never considered taking a pupil ever, let alone before his fame left his own town. He had to refuse. There was no way he could further his own career and skills with an unsteady little girl under his feet. He was sad for the salary to be forgone; the family had not named any strict limit on his pay. He would accept their meeting time; it must have been consciously scheduled at a time he would have no shows to interfere with, but he would refuse the offer to train their daughter.

--

He walked into their lavish guest quarters and wondered at the detail at the carvings etched into their entryway. As far as he could tell the only way to have done so much would have taken any single man a month of hard labor, just for the single arch. He continued on, his gaze wide and eyes wandering, trying to take in the unfathomable tapestry of paintings, statues, and carvings decorating the walls and ceilings of the rooms he passed through.

As he was shown into the room where the family would meet him, he noticed the two parents; their presence pervaded the room as if the sun was to their backs. Only on a second look through the room did he find his intended pupil. She was small and thin, she sat erect in the chair, but it seemed to devour her slowly, almost imperceptibly. Her brown hair, unusual for the Fire Nation, was straight and unadorned, but silky and hung to her mid-back. There was something about her that lacked the air of self-assuredness that her parents had.

He sat in the proffered chair and waited politely to hear whatever offers they would use to bargain with him. For a while he turned away all offers of a high wage, supplied costumes, and the like, but then he was shocked to hear the girl herself chime in. "Would not the most attractive bargain be to put a patron's backing behind such an artist?"

He gaped. Not only had this girl seen the one thing her parents hadn't offered, that they probably had never thought of since the times before the war, when culture was rampant. True, the practice had started again, and because of this there was talk that this would be a revival, The Reawakening, of the old arts.

He could do nothing but accept that offer; that this family, among the richest in the Fire Nation, would support him completely and utterly in all matters of finance, so long as he tutored her daughter.

He had a pupil.


	3. Chapter 3

He woke up and tied his hair into its knot as he did every morning. It was almost automatic at this point. As he began to dress in his training clothes, he remembered the occupant of his guest room. It had been agreed that to maximize the tutelage, she should live in the same house. Of course, he had objected at first, but was quickly impelled otherwise. He knocked on her door loud enough to rouse her, but quiet enough to be polite.

He went to the kitchen to make a light breakfast, so she would not have much to vomit later if his morning regimen pushed her that far. She came in quietly and sat down at the table. After he set down the eggs in front of her, he took his seat opposite her and began to eat, watching her discretely. She kept her politely elegant demeanor, taking proper-sized bites, wiping her mouth delicately, eating as someone of her status should. He wondered how she would produce enough fire to light a twig, much less the bursts of flame her parents envisioned.

Once they finished their breakfast she followed him to his back yard. She sighed internally; the ground was flat and bare, nothing extreme or unnerving. And he walked into the forest beyond. Before he was out of eyeshot, he looked back and saw her still in the center of the field he had cleared for practicing his more extravagant flourishes. He walked back to her and looked down, making eye contact.

"Not afraid of a hike are we?" he asked with one eyebrow cocked. She shook her head, and then hesitantly walked toward the trees and the shadows they cast on everything within.

"Hold. While I can see you are uneager, but willing, you are not yet what I'd call, 'wilderness material.'"

She faced him with relief and threw herself to the ground as a small fireball passed where her head had just been.

"Not too comfortable with fire are we?" She shook her head after she stood and dusted herself off. "Have you bent before?" Another shake of her head confirmed his suspicions. "Sit. Before anything else you must learn to make and sustain a flame. While simple it is an elegant appearance and I've used nothing more than a flame the size of my hand to entertain the audience." She nodded and sat in the conventional meditation stance, her posture impeccable.

"Now, you must find something that drives you, a passion, because emotion is what fuels our fire. A memory, perhaps, a dre-" He was cut off by a bright flare and a scared squeal as the hem of her skirt caught fire. He quickly cut the flame off and examined the skirt. "Not horrendous, but not exactly formal wear at this point. Why did you choose a skirt that covered your entire legs?"

"It is the proper form of attire for a lady." She meekly responded.

"Here you are no lady. Here you are a student. If you like I can make this a more comfortable fit for moving and bending, or I could loan you an old pair of my pants. I recommend pants. We may get a little… acrobatic as time goes on." He said with one eyebrow raised. He would enjoy colliding with all the proper living brainwashing she'd been subjected to. She asked for the pants as politely as she could muster in her startled state.

After changing she returned from the house in pants that were large enough that they did not grip her waist, but fit well enough to hang at her hips, baggier than she was used to. She had tied the bottoms of the legs up to where they would not get caught under her feet. He sat meditating near the spot that was still charred from her first attempt at flame.

"Sifu may we please resume my training? I have proper attire now."

He cracked one eye. "Sure. Now, whatever you were thinking of before, that'll be a good source. Since you obviously feel very...passionate about it," he said with a smirk. "I want you to sit in the center of your turf wound there, and I want you to ease yourself into the feeling. Slowly let it manifest itself. As a Firebender you are a channel for your inner fire; your passions, hopes, and dreams. Firebending, as I will teach it, is not a combat art, but a form of revelry. It is immersing yourself in what you love and sharing that heat with everyone around you. You won't get this type of instruction anywhere else, since there really aren't any schools of Firebending entertainment, and the army still likes the tried and true blast-bending."

"Sifu do I sense a conflict of interest with the army?"

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, "Yes. My family is not graced with your wealth. Their hopes were that I would be a great general. I barely made it to the end of the war without deserting. We shall leave it there as this does not follow the plans I have for your education. Please sit and ease into your passion."

She sat in the patch of newly blackened earth and set about trying to create a small flame.

"Waugh!" she cried as she burst into orange flames. At once they extinguished themselves and he smirked.

"Full of it aren't you?"

"I beg your pardon Sifu?" she snapped breathing heavily.

"Passion, aspiration, hope. What do you desire so fervently that you can't merely muse on it? What is this bonfire inside of you?"

"Sifu, what my dreams are does not truly matter to learning does it?"

"Have _I_ struck a nerve now?"

She nodded. "I never like to burden those around me with my personal problems. They are my demons and only I need worry with them."

"It isn't necessary, but your act would be fairly limited. Although, if you choose it, comedy is a rarely followed Firebending art. I think that a fourteen year old girl running around the stage enflamed could be fairly amusing." He said laughing on his back imagining her thus.

"Very well, Sifu. My dreams are simple. To see beyond the Fire Nation elite and the Nation's borders themselves. I dream to see true Earthbenders sculpting with nothing but their own feet, a Waterbender healing someone with nothing but a pool of rain, the ruins of the Air Temples, the things you don't learn about in school."

"And a hearty dream that is. We'll do it."

Her head spun on her neck. "What?"

He stood up and brushed himself off. "To be able to flow and create as is necessary to entertain those people that will attend our shows; we must allow your dreams to be lived. If you constantly think of your dreams as a 'what if' then you will never be able to bend properly. Your repressed dreams will not allow the grace and elegance I demand from myself and now you as my student. We will become travelers."

"B-but, Sifu, what about my lesson for today?" she replied shocked.

"We will continue with it. You need more control before you are sent to spar and test yourself against people aside from me. Since your flames are still a bit, er, lively, you shall work on the heart of Firebending, your breath. Take in through the nose, push out through the mouth. It is a simple pattern that fuels the most elegant of flourishes."

She seemed confused, but began to breathe just as he said. "I can almost feel a current through my body."

He stood up, "That's the idea. Now, follow me. You're going to run with me."

"Run?"

"Yes. Run. It's like walking, but faster and more difficult to sustain. Generally you do it while in a rush, but we do it to train. Let's go."

"Yes, Sifu," she exhaled as she stood and braced herself for this new and daunting task. He took off at a brisk trot without warning and she had to sprint to catch up. Rather, she tried to catch up. She started straggling as soon as she got close and he turned around quizzically.

"Problem?"

"My home life did not exactly involve 'running' in any form."

"Ahhh, now this is where the fun happens. Get up and try again."

She reluctantly stood and began to run. He immediately had something to say.

"Breathe like I told you, it keeps you from tiring as easily and prevents cramps. If you huff and puff through everything you won't last the first minute. Lengthen your stride, the more ground you cover with each step the less you have to take." She tried to widen her legs and promptly fell over.

He called to her, "Where do you keep your balance? It does you no good if you drop it!"

She called back embarrassed, "Where should I? It seems to be a slippery beast that enjoys playing tricks on its owner!"

He chuckled to himself; she had a healthy amount of wit, "Where does it feel like all of your weight is while you run?"

"My hindquarters!"

"Well there is your problem. Make it so that your weight revolves around your core." He was enjoying himself more than he expected to when he undertook this endeavor.

As she ran he could see her struggling still, but she seemed more in control. As he called her to a stop in front of him, her hair was damp with sweat and she rested her weight on her knees, breathing heavily through the mouth.

"None of that breathing you're doing now. Stand up and breathe like I taught you. It should be second nature. As mindless as, well, breathing. Rest your hands on your head, it opens your body and lets your energy and breath flow more easily. That will conclude us for today. You seem a bit winded," he finished with a smirk on his face.

She glared daggers up at him, her full height still below his eye-line. "Thank you _so_ much Sifu. Nothing gets by you does it?" Upon hearing herself say this she instantly covered her mouth and took a shocked expression.

Before she could begin to apologize he said, "Now, now, none of that. I'm not a drill sergeant that punishes a hair or word out of line. I enjoy it. Express yourself; it is what you will hopefully use this training for. Now let's get running again, shall we?"

"Sifu, why must we do things in such haste? Surely if taken at a slower pace I would be able to smooth into each form and pose."

"Ahh, and here is one of the few times you'll hear me agree with the army. Walk with me as I tell you," he said as he began to move around the clearing. "Speed and efficiency are key, but the speed is what wins wars. If I let you 'smooth into' my lessons, you'll only be regurgitating what I tell you when you perform. That is the only way to fail at a performance. I could show anyone my moves enough times and they could technically reproduce what I show them, but honestly, why would I? Why do you want to see these marvels of the world beyond our borders?"

"Because all my life has been monotonous. One formal event after the other. I was not paying attention to them by the time I was eight."

"So you desire change, something different, out of your life?"

"That, and also excitement, discovery, and the ability to share it with those around me."

"All good reasons why your form's perfection should not come one by one in a clean-singed and planned matter. If that happens, how will you ever make it your own? I will show you how to Firebend. You will show me how _you _Firebend."

"I understand, Sifu. Now, I suppose I should start running again. I would like to be presentable as quickly as possible."

"Agreed. Now get to it. Run around my cleared area eight times and come to me when you finish."

As she began her set path, he moved to the center of the circle and dropped to a sitting position. He began breathing deeply, visibly swelling his chest with each breath. He placed his hands on the ground and closed his eyes, continuing to breathe deeply. She watched him from the corner of her eye as she paced around her track, and stumbled as he rose from the ground supported by jets of fire. He readjusted himself so that he was in a handstand position half a foot off of the ground. He began to do motions resembling pushups, moving only above the elbow. Sweat rolled up his arms and evaporated in the columns of flame he created. After completing five repetitions, he lowered himself to the ground, remaining in a handstand. He lowered himself back into his sitting position and began to breathe more normally again.

"Sifu… I finished… my … running."

He sat like that for a moment and slowly tapered his breathing. "Good, and how tired would you say that you are?"

"More… exhausted… than… I have… ever felt."

"Alright. Now, sit and extend your legs together in front of you."

As she did he moved behind her. "Now, touch your toes."

She could only reach to the length of her ankles before halting progress. "Now breathe, and try to relax the muscles you feel burning right now. That burn is the fire in those muscles trying to escape and lengthen your reach. Do not respond just yet, it will make this harder." He kneeled behind her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "I am going to push down on you to help you stretch more. Tell me when you can go no further," he said calmly and slowly as he began to press down.

After a moment, "N-now!"

"I will hold this here for another five seconds." After that time he released her and laid her on her back. "That is among the hardest stretches you will learn. It is brutal now, but it will ease. Let me tend your legs; they must be screaming," he said soothingly as he laid his hands on her calves. "I am applying a very light heat to them to relax the muscles. Do not try this yourself until I tell you to, you could horribly hurt yourself."

"Y-yes, Sifu. That feels better."

"We will be done for the day. I'll heat you a bath. It will create a plethora of steam, I want you to breathe as I taught you even though there will be less pure air. It will strengthen your lungs and give you a better control of your breath."

"S-sifu, my legs are numb, I cannot walk."

"That's understandable, I can carry you in," he said as he lifted her onto his back. He left her in her room to change and prepared her bath. After carrying her, wrapped in a cloth, to the edge of her bath, he said, "Good first day. You're going to do just fine. I promise."

"Thank you, Sifu, now if you'll excuse me?"


End file.
